


Tinker Techie Soldier Spy

by dracusfyre



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Challenge [33]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) Fusion, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Identity Porn, James "Bucky" Barnes has Game, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Does His Best, WinterIron Reverse Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-08-11 12:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20153308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: Tony is sure (pretty sure) that the new guy James is a spy for a rival police captain, and he’s not going to let little things like a dimpled chin or a world-class ass or a great personality stand in the way of his investigation.Well, he’ll try not to. His best friends certainly aren’t helping; Rhodey has washed his hands of the whole thing and Natasha is on the sidelines watching with popcorn. But he’s determined to figure out this spy thing and then he’ll be able to prove that James is up to something more nefarious than just being criminally good looking.*Now with a Missing Scene from Bucky's POV*





	1. Cold Open

**Author's Note:**

> The super inspiring and amazing artwork is by [Berabeko](https://berabeko.tumblr.com/)! For me it was love at first sight. <3
> 
> Also, I'm using this as a fill for my Tony Stark Bingo Square S2: Cop/Detective/FBI AU

“Check out the new guy.”

“Huh?” Tony was startled out of his light doze as Natasha shoved his feet off his desk so she could sit on the corner. She jerked her chin across the room, and Tony followed her gaze to the desk closest to the bathroom, the one that had been empty ever since Rumlow transferred out a few weeks ago. “Hel_lo _,” Tony drawled, sitting up straight and leaning forward a little to get a better look at the new arrival. The man sitting at the desk had long dark hair tied up in a bun at the back of his neck, a few tendrils having already worked their way out to brush his jaw. It was a little after 9 am so his ridiculously chiseled jaw was smooth and clean shaven, but Tony would bet the Stark fortune that he was going to have a hell of a sexy 5 o’clock shadow come, well, 5 o’clock. “Check out the new guy,” he echoed with appreciation. His eyes trailed down the man’s broad shoulders to where his shirt sleeves were rolled up over his forearms, hands pecking at the keyboard as he frowned at his computer screen. “What’s his name?”

Natasha smirked. “I thought you’d be interested. His name is James.”

“James, huh? That’s a good name.” _ Good name to be calling out in bed, _ Tony thought, and Natasha snorted as if she heard that.

“But wait, there’s more.” Across the room they heard the distinctive _ chink _ of the office toaster as the bread popped up, and at the sound James slid back from his desk and crossed the room.

“Wow,” Tony said with feeling as James walked across the room, all long legs and lean hips. They both watched in admiration as James stooped to grab a jar of peanut butter from under the counter, slacks stretching tightly over his thighs and rear.

“But that’s not even the best part,” Natasha said, and Tony looked up at her skeptically. “Watch.”

Then James turned around, holding the Sarge’s jar of peanut butter, and Tony’s jaw dropped. One of Natasha’s hands covered Tony’s mouth, muffling his excited “He’s got one of my arms!” almost-shout, and the other pushed him back in his chair when he almost got up to run across the room.

James’ left arm was made of interlocking metallic plates, dully reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead as they disappeared into his sleeve; as he tried to open the lid on the jar, the plates shifted and resettled themselves, a technological marvel that gave Tony goosebumps to watch. The fingers were fully articulated, mirroring James’s other hand exactly, and there was no hesitation or clumsiness in its motion as James struggled with the jar. “It’s beautiful,” Tony whispered.

“Yeah, I thought you would like that,” Natasha said with satisfaction, removing her hands when she saw that Tony was going to behave himself. Tony had tried as much as possible to distance himself from Stark Industries since he left the company business, but he had an unspoken arrangement with his father than he would toss his better ideas over the fence to the R&D department and in return Howard mostly left him alone. The design for James’ high-tech prosthesis was one such tribute; it had been born from a caffeine-fueled weekend bender over a year ago and Tony hadn’t even known it had cleared the FDA yet, much less gone into production.

As they watched, James’ hands tightened on the jar of stubborn peanut butter with a frown of effort; everyone in the office knew that Sarge overtightened the lid on purpose so he was the only one who could open it, but apparently James was taking it personally because with a scowl he adjusted his grip and the plates rearranged themselves again. Suddenly there was a sharp _ crack _ and James looked down with dismay to see peanut butter oozing all over his fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m going to sleep with him,” Tony said, resting his chin on his hands and his elbows on his desk as they watched James set the jar in the sink and started to scrape the peanut butter on his hand off onto his toast.

“You know, you don’t have to,” Natasha said dubiously. Now James was putting the broken peanut butter jar back into the cabinet as if nothing had happened. 

“No, I’m gonna."

***Cue Theme Song***


	2. Theme Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT THIS ART. I MEAN, SERIOUSLY. *Kermit flail*


	3. Day 1: Monday

James was washing the rest of the peanut butter from his hand when the bullpen went quiet with an expectant hush. Tony spun around in his chair to see Captain Fury standing at the door of his office, glaring at his officers twice as balefully with his one eye than anyone else could with two.

“Briefing room. Now,” he barked, and everyone jumped to their feet to file into the tiny briefing room. Tony and Natasha were the last ones in, left to lean against the wall at the back of the room. “This is Detective James Barnes,” Fury said once everyone was inside. “He is the newest member of our homicide team, so I’m sure everyone will give him a warm welcome.” Fury waited for the smattering of applause to fade before he continued. “He just transferred out of the 76th where he had been working undercover for their gangs and narcotics squad. He has had a brilliant career so far and I’m sure he will be an asset to the 99.” He said this as if it were an order, not a compliment, and judging from the look on James’ face he heard that as well.

Fury gestured for James to take a seat, and as he did, Natasha poked Tony in the side. “What in the hell is wrong with your face?” she hissed.

“Nothing.” Tony rearranged his expression into something more normal for the rest of the morning briefing, well aware that Natasha was giving him strange looks the whole time. He tried to lose her after the meeting by heading straight for the men’s room, but she was waiting for him when he left, hands on her hips where she wore her gun on one side and her knife on the other.

“Well?” She said, eyebrows raised.

“Not here,” Tony muttered, and jerked his head for her to follow him to the evidence room. “I think James might be a spy,” he said when they were alone. “The 76th is Captain Pierce’s precinct, and he and Captain Fury _ hate _ each other. A couple of years ago they both applied for the same position and the infighting between them got so bad that they were both reprimanded for it.”

“Okay,” Natasha said with a frown. “That’s interesting, but how does that make you think James is a spy?”

“Because another position opened up and I heard Fury say he was applying for it.” Tony started to pace, though the room was so small he could only really go five paces in either direction, thinking furiously. “So if Fury is applying for it, I bet Pierce is too, and now he’s clearly looking for something on Fury to sabotage him. The timing is way too suspicious for it to be a coincidence.”

“Tony, that is ridiculous.” Tony crossed his arms stubbornly and Natasha rolled her eyes. “You thought I was a spy when I transferred from the 80th,” she pointed out. “You thought I was working for the mafia just because I used to investigate organized crime in Brighton Beach.”

“For the record, I’m still not entirely convinced you _ aren’t _ working for the mafia. You carry an ax and two hunting bows in the trunk of your car,” Tony pointed out. “I don’t care what you say, that’s not normal. In any case, I’m just saying we need to be careful around James until, you know, we are sure.”

“_We? _” Natasha said with amusement. “Look, Tony, Fury wouldn’t have agreed to the transfer if he thought there was the slightest chance James was spying for Pierce. And I’m pretty sure that Sarge-”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Unless Fury already knows and is planning to feed James false information,” he breathed. “Or maybe he’s a double agent. Either way, I’m just saying we should check him out.”

“Tony.” Natasha snapped her fingers to make Tony focus on her again. The amusement on her face had faded to concern. “Are you sure this is about James and not Stane? I know his arraignment was last week.”

Tony stiffened and set his jaw. “That’s ridiculous. I’m just being appropriately wary and cautious, like a normal person. Stane has nothing to do with it.”

“Really?” At Tony’s stubborn look, Natasha sighed and threw up her hands. “Okay, Tony. You do whatever you think you need to do, and when it blows up in your face don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tony waited until James was on his lunch break before he went to Clint to dig for information. Fury’s assistant was slumped over his desk, head resting on his forearms and snoring softly. “Clint,” Tony hissed. “Clint!” When he didn’t respond, Tony leaned over his desk and realized the man had taken his hearing aids out. “Goddammit, Clint,” he sighed, and looked around for something to poke him with. He found a fly swatter and started prodding Clint in the shoulder, trying to wake him up.

Then he jumped backwards when Clint went from fast asleep to wide awake in seconds, slapping the flyswatter from Tony’s hand so hard that it clattered against the floor. “Where? Who?” he said, glancing around the room wildly as if looking for the threat. He visibly relaxed as his gaze zeroed in on Tony, and when Tony pointed to his ears, Clint dug his hearing aids out of his desk drawer. “What’s up, Tony?”

Tony handed him a cup of fresh coffee as a peace offering for waking him up and pulled up a chair to sit next to Clint’s desk, which was piled so high with folders and office supplies and coffee cups that you couldn’t even see the cheap wooden laminate of the desktop. “Hey, I wanted you to tell me what you know about the new guy.”

“New guy?”

“James?” When Clint still looked at him in confusion, Tony added, “Barnes? James Barnes? Just transferred in from the 76th?”

“Oh, right.” Clint leaned back in his chair and set his feet on top of a stack of closed case files from last year. His eyes went far away as he sipped his coffee. “James Buchanan Barnes. Born March 10, 1984 in Ohio, moved to Brooklyn when he was five, graduated high school with a respectable 3.6 GPA, joined the Army, made it to Sergeant before getting out. Got his bachelor’s through American Military University using his GI bill, studied criminal justice and forensics. Got scooped for undercover work right out of the Academy, lost his arm during the bust when his partner crashed their patrol car trying to pursue a suspect. Transferred here as soon as he was cleared to return to work. Multiple commendations for bravery in the line of duty. Likes dogs but doesn’t have one, has two younger sisters with kids, and according to his Tindr profile he has a really nice-“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “TMI.”

“Motorcycle,” Clint finished, giving Tony a funny look.

“Oh.” Tony made a face. “I’m pretty sure that he didn’t submit his Tindr profile as part of his application packet, how in the hell did you…” Tony trailed off and his eyes got wide. “Clint, did you-”

“Oh, no, it’s not what you’re thinking,” Clint said. “I did my own research and background check when his application came across my desk. People really should vary their usernames when they have multiple social media accounts,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s really easy to track you on the internet if you don’t.”

“Right,” Tony said after a moment. He still had so many questions – had Clint looked up everyone in the precinct? Had he seen _ Tony’s _ Tindr profile? Did the Sarge have any social media accounts? Because he insisted that he didn’t, not even Instagram, but Tony didn’t buy it, not for a second – but he made a conscious effort to stay on topic. “So in all of your research did you find anything…suspicious?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Suspicious, like…” Tony came up blank. There was a reason why he was in cybercrimes, computers were a lot more straightforward than dealing with people. “Look, did you get the sense that he particularly close to his old Captain?” He finally asked, giving up trying to be circumspect. “Did they hang out together a lot or anything? Drinks after work?”

“Hmm.” Clint rocked in his chair, eyes going far away and thoughtful. “No, I didn’t see anything like that. Why?”

Tony leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Because I think it’s suspicious that someone from Pierce’s precinct came to work here right as Fury decided to apply for the Chief of the Counterterrorism Bureau, especially when you _ know _ Pierce is gunning for the same position.”

Clint sat up straight with a gasp and put his feet on the floor, eyes widening. “You think he’s a plant? A spy? A mole? _ Here? _”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Tony said, gesturing for Clint to lower his voice even though the bull pen was mostly deserted. “I just think it’s worth looking into. Natasha thinks I’m crazy, but-”

“No, I get it.” Clint squinted suspiciously at James’ empty desk. “Can’t be too careful. So what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Tony echoed. “Uh…” Asking questions, maybe doing a little internet searching was his plan so far, but he didn’t think that’s what Clint meant.

Clint put his coffee cup down on a stack of what looked like press releases and dug around for a scrap sheet of paper. “You’re going to need round the clock surveillance to get an idea of his schedule, so you know the best time to search his house and so you’ll know immediately if there’s any deviation to his routine that would indicate suspicious behavior,” he said, making notes. “You’ll need to look for burner phones, watch for places that he might be using as a dead drop, and investigate anyone that he’s alone with for more than a few minutes-” Clint stopped when he realized that Tony was staring at him. “What?”

“What in the hell did you do before you got this job?” Tony demanded.

“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” Clint said. He handed Tony the sheet of paper then held out the empty coffee mug and looked at Tony hopefully. “Refill?”

Despite his best efforts, that afternoon Tony had to buckle down and do some of the paperwork that had been piling up over the past week, exciting police work like editing and formatting witness reports and statements, closing out cases and filing them away, and writing updates on the status of open cases for Captain Fury’s review. He made sure to complain about it to anyone who walked by, particularly Sarge, so that they would all know that he was only doing it under duress. Sometimes he could trade the boring paperwork with Natasha or Clint in exchange for putting all their cases into the NYC OpenData crime database and CompStat reports, because basic data entry was much less aggravating for him than trying to make sure that his case reports adhered to the NYPD style guide, but this week they’d taken one look at his stack of files and given it a hard pass.

“Hey,” a deep voice said, interrupting his train of thought as he tried to read his own notes. Tony glanced up to see James standing by his desk with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand and his thoughts froze, because of course James had a beautiful smile, one that went all the way to his blue-gray eyes. This man should come with a warning. “I’m James. I know Captain Fury introduced me earlier, but I’ve been trying to meet everyone individually.”

Tony blinked at James for a moment before his brain came back online. “Tony,” he said, standing to shake James’ hand and gesturing for him to sit. “I’m the 99’s IT guy and the head of the cybercrimes division.”

“The head?” James said curiously as he sat, long legs stretching out as he sat back and put his hands behind his head. Tony dragged his eyes back to his screen with some effort. “Who else works cybercrimes?”

“Well, for now it’s just me,” Tony admitted. “But if we ever hire anyone else, I’ll be their boss, so, you know, that makes me the head by default, right?”

“Guess that explains why you have twice as many computers as anyone else,” James said, eyeing the wall of three monitors and two computer towers that dominated Tony’s desk like a fortress of electronics. “Do you get a lot of cases come across your desk? I’ve never known anyone who worked cybercrimes.”

“Oh, well.” Tony cleared his throat and smoothed a hand down his tie. “I work a little differently because I don’t always have to wait for someone to bring a complaint to me to open a case. I mean I do run cases, like identity theft, online harassment, or hacking, but I also run the algorithms that search social media for threats or suspicious activity and I do all of the digital forensics for the 99 so we don’t have to send it out of house. I also maintain all of our servers and websites and, uh, that kind of stuff.” Tony forced himself to stop because James’ interested attentiveness was making him want to ramble so that James would keep looking at him so intently. “Basically, if it has anything to do with a computer, it’s probably part of my job,” he finished, trying to remind himself that James was the enemy. Maybe.

“That’s really impressive,” James said, sounding sincere. “I bet you stay busy, taking care of all of that.”

“Well, cybercrimes are still new enough that sometimes the laws haven’t even caught up with some of the crap people do online, so I kind of make my own caseload,” Tony said. James’ steady gaze was making him feel ridiculously flustered so he started straightening his files and tidying his messy desk.

“What do you mean, the laws haven’t caught up?”

“Like cyberstalking, for example. Or cyber-bullying. Sometimes the kind of behavior that can make someone feel stalked doesn’t fit the legal definition so we can’t always open a case file. But I’m not going to tell someone that I can’t help them, obviously, so I usually track down the stalker or bully and most of the time, I find out that they are doing something illegal that we _ can _ nab them for.” Tony made a face, remembering the teenager that had come in a week ago with her classmates that had been stalking and harassing her online for being trans. “Sometimes all I can do is get them kicked off a site for violating the terms and conditions, but at least it lets them know that someone is watching.”

“Huh.” Tony looked over to see James studying him thoughtfully, but before he could ask what James was thinking about, Sarge came by with a stack of papers.

“Need you to finish your intake paperwork, Barnes,” Sarge said, dropping the stack in his lap. “Otherwise you get to deal with HR yourself.”

“Sure thing, _ Rogers _,” James said, rolling his eyes. He offered Tony a parting smile and went back to his desk, leaving Tony to blink blankly at his monitors, his concentration completely shot in favor of an unprofessional internal monologue regarding James’ mouth. After a moment he heard his monitor ding for an incoming message on the NYPD’s private chat service and glanced down to see that Natasha had sent him the heart eyes emoji.

_ Very funny, _Tony wrote back, and saw her smirk at her computer monitor.

_ Are you going to put James under surveillance or do a honeypot operation? ;) _

Tony frowned at the screen for a long moment trying to figure out what in the hell Natasha was talking about when she finally sent him a lipstick kiss emoji and the baguette emoji, which they had started using after the eggplant and cucumber emojis had been both banned from the interoffice chat. He replied with a Wikipedia link to the type of honeypot operation he was more familiar with and wrote _ I knew you worked for the mafia. _

That afternoon, Tony was so distracted thinking about James during his wing chun class that his sparring partner managed to land a solid blow on his side, knocking the wind out of him. She was very apologetic afterwards, bringing him water and sitting next to him while he got his breath back, but the instructor recommended that he go home so after a few minutes he waved her back to class and started to pack up his gym bag. As he walked the seven blocks back home, Tony dug out his phone.

“Hey, Rhodey,” he said. “You busy? You’re not on shift today, right?” Rhodey was a firefighter and trying to keep up with his shift schedule was hit or miss for Tony; you’d think that since they worked in the same neighborhood they would get to hang out often, but their work schedules meant they spent more time on the phone than actually seeing each other in person.

“Nah, I don’t start until Wednesday. What’s up?”

“So I think my new coworker is spy for a rival police department,” Tony said. “I’m thinking about investigating him.”

Tony walked a whole city block while he waited for Rhodey to stop laughing. “First of all, rival police department? Really? What is this, high school? Second, I think they have this whole department devoted to investigating dirty cops, maybe you should start there instead of going all Columbo on him.”

“Spying on one police precinct for another police precinct isn’t exactly an actionable offense with Internal Affairs,” Tony said, jogging to cross the street as the signal changed. “I think. I don’t know. But I’ll need something to take to them anyway, so that’s why I have to do it.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Tones,” Rhodey said. “Tell your boss and let him handle it.”

Tony made a frustrated noise. “I don’t want to say anything to Fury without having more information. Which is why I was going to investigate him.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“If I’m wrong, no harm, no foul, right?”

There was another one of Rhodey’ long suffering sighs, this one extra long so that Tony would know that he was causing Rhodey extra suffering. “And why exactly did you call me? Because I can tell you I’m not spending my free time investigating one of your coworkers.”

Tony dug through his duffel bag for his keys. “No, just wanted moral support. And you know, if I’m right and I uncover a major police coverup, avenge my death.”

“Whatever you say, Tony. As long as I get all your stuff.”

An hour later, showered and fed, Tony opened his laptop, drumming his fingers on his dining room table. For a moment he thought that maybe he _ was _ overreacting; Fury was one of the most formidable and suspicious people he’d ever met, there’s no way he would let Pierce get the drop on him. Right? Tony started to close his laptop, feeling ridiculous, but then his eyes caught on the bare patch of wall where his graduation photo used to be, one of the many he’d thrown away after Stane was arrested, and then he opened his browser and started researching how to tail someone.


	4. Day 2: Tuesday

The next day, armed with a few hours of internet research, Tony’s surveillance was not off to an auspicious start. James had gotten up to leave for the day while Tony was in the middle of taking a statement, so he had to scramble to wrap it up and get out of there, trying not to make it too obvious that he was in a rush. He knew he was failing because Natasha was shaking her head at him and Clint, awake for once, was winking and giving him a thumbs up. Making a face at both of them, Tony grabbed his duffle bag of surveillance equipment – at this point just a pair of binoculars and a set of dark grey gym clothes from his MIT days, which he figured would be less conspicuous than his slacks and button down – and sprinted down to the stairs to try to catch up with James, only to find him talking to a uniformed officer right outside the elevator. At that point, he couldn’t hang out and wait for him to leave without looking suspicious, since he had just coming banging out of the stairwell breathing hard, so he’d had to leave and figure out a place to lurk until James left.

“Holy shit, I’m bad at this,” Tony said to a handful of pigeons as he fed them the squished remnants of a granola bar he’d found at the bottom of the duffle bag.

“Bad at what?” James said from over his shoulder, making Tony jump. “Feeding pigeons?” He climbed over the back of the bench to sit next to him, cooing at the gray and brown birds as they warbled and pecked at the ground.

For a moment Tony’s brain blue-screened because of the proximity of James’ biceps as he rested his arm on the back of the bench, almost close enough to touch Tony’s shoulder. “Uh, dating,” Tony improvised weakly as James gave him an expectant look. “It’s just, you know,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “the worst.”

James made a face like _ oh that sucks. _ “Is that why you went rushing out of the precinct only to end up on a bench in this rinky dink park? Got stood up?”

“Yep. Exactly.” Tony nodded, trying to look dejected while James nodded sympathetically.

They spent a long moment nodding at each other before Tony realized belatedly that James was waiting for him to tell the story of the aborted date. He opened his mouth to make something up, but before he could think of anything James cleared his throat and said, “You know, I got a few minutes before I’m supposed to meet a buddy at the gym, want me to buy you a drink?”

“Sure,” Tony said, surprising himself. “But I’ll buy, since you’re the new guy,” he added. “All of us at the 99 usually drink at Shaw’s, it’s just around the corner.” _ It’s a fact-finding mission, _ he justified to himself as he walked with James to the bar. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the sexy stubble darkening his jaw or the way his smiles always seemed to start in his eyes before they reached his mouth. “After you,” he said as he opened the door.

The décor in Shaw’s was probably underwhelming even when the bar was new. Cheap carpeting that was almost worn through to the cement below, barstools with cracked faux leather and half the neon signs on the wall had burned out bits that hadn’t been repaired for as long as Tony had been coming there. But the reason why everyone drank there was one, because cops had always gone to Shaw’s after work, so it was a tradition, and two, because it has – unbeknownst to the hipsters invading nearby boroughs – the best beer selection outside of Manhattan. Tony felt obscurely proud when Scott the bartender handed over the beer list and Bucky whistled with surprise. Tony, who had been working his way down the list systematically because that was the only way to determine the Best Beer on the list, ordered one he’d never had before while James ordered the beer that was on the rotating tap this week.

“So how’d a computer guy like you get into police work?” James asked as they sat down in a corner booth.

Tony laughed. “By committing a crime, actually. I, uh, got caught hacking into the police database trying to get rid of a speeding ticket before my dad found out that I’d taken his car without permission. He would not have reacted well,” Tony said with a grimace. “But he reacted even worse when a police officer came to his door and told him what I’d been trying to do. I was really lucky that instead of prosecuting me the officer had me volunteer for the NYPD instead, debugging the system and improving their network security. I got a taste for the work, so he also sponsored me through the academy.”

“Who was the officer? Do you still talk to him?”

“It was Captain Fury, actually.” Tony picked at the label of his beer, a blueberry IPA out of some craft brewery in the Catskills. “He’s, uh, he’s got a thing about picking up strays.”

James made a thoughtful sound, and Tony thought for sure he’d take the bait and ask about Fury but instead he said, “Where did you learn hacking, anyway? Did you teach yourself or go to school for it?”

“Oh, well…” Tony took a sip of his beer to buy himself a second to think. Most of his fellow detectives at the 99 knew enough about his family to never, ever, bring them up in conversation. “My dad was in the biz, he kind of taught me, then I went to school for it,” he answered vaguely. “You? I mean, why did you become a cop?”

“Well, there’s not many places to use the kind of skills you get in the military,” James said with a shrug. “Plus fighting bad guys overseas seems foolish when there are so many here at home.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go into SWAT, there’s a lot of veterans there.”

“Well, I was planning to at the academy but right before I graduated this guy, my old captain, said down and sold me on this operation that he was about to run to get a bunch of nasty gangs off the streets and said I’d be perfect undercover. Gave me this whole spiel about my military history giving me an in and everything. The real hook was that it was in my old neighborhood where I grew up.” James blew out a breath and shrugged. “Then there was the accident and then I got this,” he said, wiggling the fingers of his metal hand, and Tony’s hands tightened on his beer to that he wouldn’t give in to the temptation to grab his hand and yank it across the table for a better look. “It’s letting me stay on the force instead of getting medically disqualified but getting the waiver for SWAT hasn’t been so easy.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tony took another sip. He knew he should be following up on the _ my old captain _ line but he gave into temptation instead. “So, uh, how are you liking that?” he asked, gesturing to James’ arm with his beer.

“It’s fucking amazing,” James said, and Tony had to clear his throat quickly to cover the squeaky sound of joy he made. James opened and closed his hand, making a fist. Tony watched the light gleam off his knuckles and thought, _ this better not awaken anything in me. _“I can punch through a car door with it.”

“Wow,” Tony said, hoping he didn’t sound as strangled as he felt. He took a deep breath and sip of beer to calm himself down, trying to look anywhere but at the mechanical marvel in front of him and the good-looking bastard attached to it.

“Yeah, I’m just glad it wasn’t my right hand or I might have ripped my dick off while I was figuring out how it worked.” James grinned with satisfaction as Tony choked on his beer. “So you were recruited by Fury, huh? What’s he like, as a boss?”

Tony took a little longer to stop coughing than he really needed, trying to figure out what to say. “He’s great. A hardass, but fair. Intensely private though. For example, we know he’s married but that’s about it.”

“Captain Fury is married?” James said with disbelief. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I know, right? But his spouse is the biggest mystery of the department. No one has ever seen them or knows anything about them. We don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.” Tony held up his hands at James’ skeptical look. “I swear. Nobody knows and asking gets you a dressing down and a mandatory workplace harassment training.”

“Just look up his marriage certificate.”

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. “Gee, we never thought of that,” he said, and showed James a screenshot of a marriage license.

“Nicholas J Fury and Quinn Bennett,” James read, and handed the phone back. “Right. Inconclusive. So I’m going to guess you guys have done a background check and everything?”

“We all decided after we googled them and got nowhere that digging any further would be cheating-”

“And if Fury found out you’d be screwed,” James put in.

“Yeah, that too. So as it stands, it’s the biggest mystery of the department. Whoever figures it out gets a hundred and sixty bucks and bragging rights for all time.”

“You don’t say,” James said, eyes narrowing, and Tony had to smile because he knew that look.

“Bonne chance,” he said, tapping his bottle against James’ glass. “You’ll either go down as the man who solved the mystery or the fastest detective to get fired from the 99.”

“No guts, no glory,” James said cheerfully. Tony watched his throat move as James took another sip of beer and tried to think of something useful to ask about, something clever and relevant that would give Tony more insight into his motivations and psyche.

“So what’s your favorite part of being a cop?” Tony asked, then took a drink to try to cover up a wince. Dammit, that sounded more like something you’d ask on a date than an undercover interrogation.

“Giving people good news,” James said immediately. “We caught the guy, we have your stuff. I’m going to let you off with a warning.”

Tony stared. How could this guy even be for real? “That’s way better than my answer,” he said. “I like stopping bad guys. You sound like you’ve thought about it a lot, to answer that quickly.”

“Well, yeah, haven’t we all? I mean, when you have a bad day and try to figure out why we even do this job?” James shrugged and gestured to his metal hand. “I had a lot of time and reasons to think about my future when I was in the hospital for this.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Tony tried not to stare at the arm even though his curiosity was killing him; he told himself he had entirely scientific reasons to want to rip James’s shirt off and get a closer look.

“Also, there’s a lot of bad cops out there,” James added. He was staring at his beer, face grim and thoughts clearly somewhere else. “I thought for a long time whether I wanted to be part of a system that sheltered them, but a friend convinced me that you can’t fix a system by abandoning it, so.” He shrugged again and blew out a breath. “These days, I’m on the lookout for that shit. If I find a cop doing something shady, I’m going to flip on them so fast I’ll earn myself an Olympic medal in gymnastics, blue wall of silence be damned."

"Right, of course," Tony said, taking a drink to cover his surprise. _ That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, _ Tony told himself later as he waited for the bus to go home. _ Maybe Pierce convinced him that Fury is the dirty cop. We still have to know, one way or another. _


	5. Day 3: Wednesday

Despite the fact that Tony spent the evening doing more research, the next day didn’t go according to plan either. This time, though, Tony did make it out the door before James and pulled his car around so he could watch the precinct covertly and see when James left. 

“I’m determined to get the hang of this,” he told Rhodey while he waited. “It’s valuable practice. We should have spent more time on it in the academy.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Rhodey said, not for the first time. “You’re going to get your ass shot, following a cop around like this.”

“Don’t be so paranoid. Oh, there he is, I’ve gotta - goddammit,” Tony groaned. “Of _ course _ he runs outside instead of on a treadmill like normal people.” James was wearing a black A-shirt that showed off a frankly unnecessary amount of shoulders and running shoes. He stretched, bounced up on toes a couple of times, then took off down the sidewalk. Tony banged his head on his steering wheel, resigning himself to another total wash of a day, when a gaggle of tourists streamed by him. “Wait, hold on, I have an idea. I’ll call you back, platypus.”

“Come on, Tones, don’t-“ But Tony ended the call before Rhodey could try to talk sense into him one more time. He flagged down the tour guy at the head of the tour group and pulled out his badge and wallet.

“You know, I didn’t anticipate this being the most popular use for that gyroscopic code I wrote,” Tony said musingly a few minutes as he did a few practice circles on the tour guide’s Segway, “but I guess I can’t argue with results.” Glancing up, he saw James crossing the street a block away. “I’ll bring it back soon, I promise!” Tony said over his shoulder as he raced to catch up.

***

“So how did that high stakes pursuit work out for you?” Rhodey said over dinner later that night as Tony deleted the dozens of photos he’d taken trying to look like a tourist while following James on his run.

“Terrible,” Tony said with a sigh, putting his phone down. “The man ran for five miles and then probably collapsed in an exhausted haze as soon as he got home. Five miles, Rhodey,” Tony stressed, taking the bun off his greasy burger so he could dump ketchup on it. “Who does that?”

“_I _do that.”

“Yeah, but you gotta be in shape for your job. With us, if we don’t catch the bad guy in the first half mile, we just put out an APB.” Tony stole Rhodey’s pickles and put them on his own burger. “The bright side is, I did have the chance to work out some improvements to send to the Segway company because those things are a _ travesty _of engineering.”

“But did you learn anything about James?” When Tony’s eyes went distant, thinking about James in his running shorts, Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Anything _ useful? _”

“No, not really.”


	6. Day 4: Thursday

At 10:15 in the morning, James stood, straightened his tie, and looked determinedly at Captain Fury’s office. “I’m going in,” he announced, and the office started a (very quiet) drumroll as he crossed the bullpen. As the door closed behind him, Tony darted out from behind his desk and combat crouched over to Clint’s desk to try and listen through the window.

The first few minutes was occupied by shop talk, going over some account set-up questions and giving updates as to his assigned cases. Tony mouthed “nothing yet” to Clint who in turn signed it to the rest of the office, who were waiting with anticipation to see what would happen to the new guy.

Then James asked, “Who is this?” and Tony guessed he was pointing to the only framed photo on Fury’s desk, one that everyone in the office had already dissected for clues a million times over. There were three people in the photo- Fury in the middle with a man on one side and a woman on the other with his arms around both.

“Photo,” Tony whispered to Clint, who sighed and shook his head as he relayed the message to everyone else. There was a mutter and money reluctantly changed hands because everyone in the office knew that the photo was a trap for the unwary, and James walked right into it.

“That’s from my wedding, obviously,” Fury said crisply, and Tony wondered if James knew how thin the ice was that he was on right now. “Right after the wedding we took a picture with the officiant, who is one of my closest friends.”

“Oh, of course,” James said smoothly. “You make a lovely couple. What’s your friend’s name?”

Tony heard the tell-tale squeak of Fury’s chair that meant he was leaning forward and probably resting his elbows on the table. “Code 11-99!” he hissed at Clint.

_ Officer needs help! _ Clint signed to the office, and everyone suddenly became too busy to look up from their computers. Tony shared a glance with Clint, who just shrugged. _ Every man for himself, _ he signed.

Meanwhile, inside the office, Fury said, voice low and dangerous, “Am I under investigation, Detective Barnes?”

“No!” James said hurriedly, and Tony winced, because Fury could smell fear. Noob mistake. “I just – I meant-“

“Because you are asking an awful lot of personal questions.”

_ Shit. _Tony scowled at the other officers one last time and stood, knocking on the office door. When Fury answered, he stuck his head inside and said, “Sorry to interrupt, but James got a call at his desk for that hit and run case.”

“You may go,” Fury said, glancing back at his computer and releasing James from the gimlet stare that had been pinning him to his seat. James fled the office, closing the door behind him gratefully.

“Thank you,” James said under his breath. “I think I need a drink to steady my nerves after that.”

“Nice try, Barnes,” Clint said. “Valiant effort.” Everyone in the bull pen gave him a quiet golf clap and Tony patted him on the back.

“You lived. That’s a victory all on its own.”

“I think he’s doing it on purpose,” James said, popping his neck and rolling his shoulders, probably trying to release the stress headache he got in that five minutes of conversation with Fury. Tony throttled down the entirely platonic impulse to offer him a shoulder massage. “The thing with his spouse, I mean.”

“Oh, he definitely is,” Tony said, dragging his eyes away. He grabbed a cup of coffee that he had poured and forgotten about over an hour ago and stuck it in the microwave. “That’s part of the challenge. You gotta see if you can make him slip up or corner him in conversation, but he’s got like, twice as much experience at interrogating hostile suspects than we do put together.”

James only made a thoughtful sound, frowning at Fury’s door and scratching his jaw, and Tony turned away to hide a smile. It wasn’t until he was back at his desk that he realized that he’d fucked up again, because he was supposed to be rescuing Fury from James, not the other way around.

_ I’m not good at this spying business, _ he wrote in a group chat with Natasha and Clint.

_ You’re not kidding, _ Natasha wrote back. _ Your _ [heart eyes emoji] _ is showing. _

That evening, James actually went straight home after work, which left Tony to creepily hang out outside his apartment building for almost the whole evening. Tony was just starting to feel optimistic that the stakeout wasn’t a complete waste of time, because he was able to crib off of a nearby café’s internet and get some work done, when it occurred to him around dinner time that he didn’t know if the building had more than one exit.

“I really am very bad at this, aren’t I?” he sighed, closing his laptop. He started to crank up his car when he saw a familiar face cross the street and stare up at James’s building. Without taking his eyes off the man, he reached for his phone and texted Natasha: _ where did Rumlow go when he transferred out? _

There were the little dancing dots as Natasha typed. _ Clint says he went to the 76t__h__. Y? _

_ He’s outside James’s apartment building. _ Tony zoomed in with his phone and took a couple of pictures, sending the best one to Nat.

_ Doesn’t mean James is spying. _

_ But it is suspicious, _ Tony wrote, and when the dancing dots appeared and disappeared a couple of times but no text came, he knew that Natasha was agreeing with him but didn’t like it. After a few minutes of studying the building, Rumlow turned the corner and vanished from view. Tony put his hand on the car door to get out and follow him, but hesitated. Getting caught following Rumlow was an entirely different prospect from getting caught following James. Rumlow was literally the kind of guy who would shoot first and ask questions later, or maybe don’t ask questions at all and just plant evidence. For once, Tony let discretion be the better part of valor and just drove home, an uneasy feeling settling into his stomach on the way.


	7. Day 5: Friday

The next day, Tony took twenty minutes to get up the nerve to casually come up next to James at the coffee pot and ask, “Hey, when you were at the 76th did you ever meet a guy named Brock Rumlow?”

James frowned as he poured himself a cup. “Not that I know of. Why?”

Tony shrugged, super extra casually. “He transferred over there before you came here, I was just curious.”

“Oh, well after the accident I actually didn’t go back to the precinct at all, I came here right after I was done with medical leave.” James handed him the coffee pot, and Tony noticed that this time, his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, watching James with confusion as he walked back to his desk. As he poured sugar and milk into his coffee he felt obscurely disappointed, and his stomach sank as he realized that he was going to have to be more serious about the investigation that he’d been, if he was honest with himself, half-assing up until now.

After work, he said his goodbyes and left, circling back around in his car to wait until James left as well. New York traffic meant that he was reasonably able to keep up with James on his motorcycle, following him home and then to a hole in the wall gym a few blocks away.

Tony parked where he had a good view of the gym, a simple one-room affair with mirrors and a glass front, and called Rhodey.

“You call me enough times while you’re doing this, I’m going to look like an accomplice,” Rhodey complained as he picked up the phone.

“Look, I found something last night,” Tony said. “You remember Rumlow?”

“That walking lawsuit for police brutality? Of course.”

“He transferred to the 76th before James came to the 99, and I saw him outside James’s apartment last night. When I asked him about it, he acted all squirrely.”

Rhodey was silent for a time. “Tony,” he said, and this time his voice was deadly serious. “If James is involved with Rumlow, you need to get the hell out of there.”

“I don’t know that he is, that’s the point,” Tony insisted. He was having a hard time reconciling what he’d been learning about James with the idea that he would have anything to do with someone like Pierce or Rumlow. “I just have to know- Oh God,” Tony said suddenly, voice strangled.

“What? What’s happening?” Rhodey asked, alarmed.

“He’s doing squats,” Tony said, trying very hard to keep his voice level as he watched James’ workout shorts stretch across his rear, his shirt dark with sweat and sticking to his back. “He’s, uh, really strong.” Tony watched him squat until he re-racked his weights, swallowing a whimper as James pulled the tie out of his hair, raked the sweaty tendrils away from his face, then put his hair back up in a bun. Lowering his binoculars, Tony turned the air conditioning on his car. “Why do they put giant windows in the front of gyms, anyway? To make everyone else feel lazy?”

“I can’t believe you are creeping on this guy while he’s at the gym,” Rhodey said in his ear. “I still don’t know why you’re not talking to your Captain if you really think he’s a spy. Especially now that Rumlow is in the picture.”

“Without evidence? Fury would make me a meter maid.” Tony put the binoculars back up to his eyes just in time to watch Bucky do one-armed pull ups with the metal arm, clearly joking with the other guys in the gym. After approximately half a million pullups – _ the bastard _– Tony saw Bucky drape a towel over his neck, clap his workout buddy on the shoulder, and walk away from the windows. “I think he’s taking a shower, maybe he’ll finally go home.”

“What, you’re not going to follow him into the locker room?”

“You think I should?” Tony grinned when Rhodey exhaled in his ear, long and low. “Just kidding. I don’t have a membership here anyway.”

“I’m getting off the phone before you incriminate me in this nonsense,” Rhodey said. “Be careful and don’t do anything stupid. Er. Stupid_er. _”

“Okay. We still doing brunch this Sunday?”

“Of course.”

When James came out of the gym, though, it was clear that he wasn’t heading home. He had changed into a pair of jeans that lovingly cupped the curve of his ass and a deceptively simple loose-fitting white shirt. The fabric of the shirt clung to James’s skin where it was still damp from the shower, and Tony just knew that it was the type of shirt that would get almost translucent when wet. “Bastard’s going out clubbing,” he whimpered, imagining him on a dance floor, hips moving to the beat, eyes hooded and grin lazy in the flashing lights of the club. “A dance club would be a great place to meet a contact,” Tony mused out loud, strongly tempted to resume his surveillance at a closer distance. He glanced down at his own clothes and grimaced, realizing that there was no way he’d be allowed into a club wearing this, and calculated the time it would take to go and get ready and get back. “Dammit, this is why I need a partner,” he grumbled, and let James disappear around the corner. There was no way he was going to be able to keep up with him on a Friday night in the city if James had a lead, so he drove home and walked out to meet Nat and Clint at a bar instead.

“How’s the investigation coming?” Natasha asked with an amused twinkle in her eye that faded when Tony didn’t smile.

“Seeing Rumlow near James’s place threw me for a loop,” Tony admitted. “I’ve been trying to think of a reasonable explanation for it, but I got nothing. I mean, he wasn’t walking around like he lived there or anything, so. I don't know.”

“Maybe he was investigating something unrelated,” Clint offered. “Could have just been a coincidence.”

“No such thing as a coincidence,” Tony and Natasha said at the same time. “Look, Tony, you should-“ Natasha started, but Tony shook his head, cutting her off as he waved the waiter down and ordered three shots.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, not tonight,” Tony said, raking his fingers through his hair and blowing out a breath. “After the week I’ve had, I just need a break.”


	8. Day 6: Saturday

Saturday brought the greatest test of will that Tony had faced, if not in his entire life, then definitely in the past five years or so. Friday night, in a fit of alcohol-induced determination, he had set his alarm to go off early in the morning because James had mentioned before leaving work that he liked to get up and do his errands first thing so that he could enjoy the rest of his day. When the alarm went off, however, at a time of day that Tony was more used to seeing as a result of staying up late than getting up early, Tony hit snooze and spent all ten minutes debating just how much he cared about thwarting James’ theoretically evil plans for the 99.

Finally, though, he dragged himself out of bed, dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt worn soft by repeated washings, and a baseball hat. At the last minute he added sunglasses when he stepped out the door and realized how fuck-me bright it was, then slumped grumpily over to James’s apartment building to take up his surveillance position. He was there for so long, drinking cup after cup of coffee, that he was starting to fear that Bucky was one of those “up before the sun” types like the Sarge. But finally, at 11, James came out of the apartment building, wearing a leather jacket and motorcycle boots, looking perky and aggravatingly well rested.

“Oh, sure, you decide to sleep in _ today _,” Tony grumbled as he filled up his cup one last time and followed James to the metro. “Bastard.”

The metro was, of course, a fucking mess on a Saturday morning, packed with tourists out to enjoy one of the few remaining nice days before winter. It was a pain in the ass to keep an eye on James in the wall of people, and his coffee got sacrificed in the struggle, but finally they were back out on the open sidewalk. It was a lot easier to keep up with him there because even though James set a brisk pace, he was punctilious about never jaywalking, so Tony was usually able to catch up with him about every other block or so. His destination, however, was still a mystery; they had taken the train uptown and were now walking towards Central Park, but James wasn’t dressed to go for a run or anything. It occurred to Tony that Central Park would be a great place to meet with someone without being overheard, and got excited that his hard work was going to pay off, but when they got to the park entrance James turned left instead.

“The _ Met?” _ Tony said in surprise when he saw their destination. With the long hair and the military history and the motorcycle and tattoos (ok, so he got James’s Tindr info from Clint, he was only human and a male bisexual human at that) the Met was the last place he thought James would go to on a Saturday morning.

He followed James inside, hanging back a few places in the line to go through security, and watched as James made for the newest exhibit, _ Play it Loud: The Instruments of Rock and Roll _ . His eyes widened and heart started pounding with excitement when he saw the first classical guitar hanging on the wall, a 1958 Telecaster that belonged to Muddy Waters. He moved to where he could keep an eye on James and still see the exhibits and texted Rhodey furtively. _ If James isn’t a spy, I might marry him, _ he wrote, and managed to sneak a picture of James studying a mint condition first run Fender Stratocaster. _ I was just telling Natasha that I wanted to see this exhibit. _

_ You are a disaster of a human being, _ was all Rhodey wrote back.

Tony shoved his phone back into his pocket and embarked on the toughest mission of his life, trying to keep an eye on James while not being seen while simultaneously trying to look at all the exhibits. It helped that James didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry; he would pull out his phone to check the time and occasionally message someone, but then he would just put his hands back in his pockets and meander slowly, conscientiously reading the labels for everything in every room. When James lingered in front of a guitar owned by Van Halen, Tony twitched with the need to join him and ask him what he thought of the exhibits and who his favorite artists were and would he maybe want to get coffee after and oh yeah why in the hell was Rumlow outside your apartment last night?

But they managed to make it all the way through the exhibit without Tony breaking cover, then James meandering aimlessly through the rest of the museum until 12:30 when he headed back outside and got a table at a trendy, overpriced café a few blocks from central park. Tony took up surveillance near a hot dog truck and watched as a young brown-haired woman sat down next to him, kissing him on the cheek as James stood to give her a hug. _ Sister, _ Tony remembered, feeling extra stalker-y as he tried to keep them in his line of site without staring. So that he wouldn’t look too obvious, he went over to a nearby bus stop and pulled out his phone.

_ How do you feel about a walking brunch tomorrow? _ He asked Rhodey. _ Or takeout? _

_ Absolutely not. I’m not going to be party to this nonsense, _ he wrote back immediately. _ Especially because it’s my first day off rotation. _

_ Heroes don’t take days off, _ Tony wrote back.

_ Only God gets to take Sunday off, _ he wrote a few minutes later when Rhodey didn’t answer.

_ I know you’re still seeing these. _

_ My treat? _

_ If you don’t answer, that means you’re volunteering to pay. _

That last one earned him an angry face emoji. As a bus pulled up in a squeal of breaks and cloud of exhaust, Tony pulled out his earbuds and pretended to listen to music while James and his sister lingered over soups and salads. After what felt like hours, James’s sister eventually looked at her phone, made a surprised face, and bustled out. James took his time finishing his coffee, then paid for the bill.

“Finally,” Tony muttered under his breath, but instead of going straight home James spent the next hour meandering through shops on the way back to the metro; picking up some fruit at a pop-up farmer’s market stand, browsing a bookstore, and generally driving Tony out of his mind with boredom. More than once he thought about just confronting James, like they did in the movies, and try to surprise a confession or some incriminating information out of him, but he just gritted his teeth and tried not to run over too many pedestrians trying to keep up with James’s long legs. Tony then had the honor of haunting the closest coffee shop again while James went up to his apartment for a few hours. He thought a little wistfully of the eavesdropping devices Clint had tried to give him the previous night; not only would they have made Tony’s job much easier, but Tony wondered what James’s hobby of choice was. Video games? Music? Reading? Sarge was such a good artist that he frequently did commissions in his spare time, and Fury was at the range more days than not. Natasha’s hobbies changed with the seasons and, well, the evidence of Tony's hobby was hanging out in a fourth floor apartment across the street.

Around dinner time, James re-emerged and headed down the street thankfully away from the metro station; Tony didn’t think he could mentally handle going on the subway again today. Tony followed him all the way to a greasy spoon diner and when James went inside, he grabbed a free newspaper and had a seat on a bench across the street while James considerately picked a booth by the window.

After a minute of scanning the headlines, glancing up after every page to make sure Bucky hadn’t moved, Tony realized his pocket was vibrating. He folded the paper and frowned down at his phone, trying to figure out who was calling him. It wasn’t a phone number he recognized, but it was a local area code, so after a moment of indecision he answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Tony.”

“James?” Tony squeaked in surprise, sitting up straighter on the bench. “Hey, James. Uh, how did you get my number?”

“Steve gave it to me.”

“Steve?” Tony repeated. “You mean Sarge?”

“Yeah. Want to come inside and eat with me?”

Shit, he’d been made. “What do you mean?” Tony tried. “I’m at home, but if you want to have dinner…” Tony trailed off when James turned around in his seat and waved at him. “Goddammit.” Tony sighed and hung up, crossing the street to go inside the diner.

“Don’t feel bad,” James said as Tony joined him in the booth. “I was a recon sniper in the Army for four years and just spent a year undercover. I don’t think there’s anyone on the NYC payroll that could tail me without me noticing.” Tony groaned and buried his head in his hands, feeling James pat him on the back. “So what did you think of the museum? I heard you tell Natasha you wanted to see that exhibit.”

Tony lifted his head. “You went to the museum for _ me? _” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Figured that if you were going to be following me, you should have a chance to enjoy yourself.”

Tony groaned again and put his head on the table. “You-“ Tony felt heat crawl up his neck. “You’ve known since the beginning, haven’t you?”

“I noticed you on the Segway but didn’t think anything of it until I saw your car outside my apartment building. Then I saw you again outside my gym,” James said, and Tony could hear the grin in his voice. “It wasn’t leg day, but I made an exception. Hope you appreciated my efforts.”

Of course he did, but he didn’t feel like admitting it right now. “How long were you going to let me follow you?”

“Until I figured out what you wanted or you figured out that you’d been made. I gotta say, I was a little disappointed you didn’t follow me out Friday night.”

That made Tony back in his seat. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I had this whole plan to ‘find’ you and invite you to dance, maybe have another drink together.” James smiled at the waitress as she set down two cups of coffee; Tony scowled at his but pulled it close anyway. “A cream and two sugars, right?” James asked as Tony took a sip.

“Yeah,” Tony said in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Detective,” James reminded him. “So why were you following me, anyway? I’m going to guess it’s not because you were too shy to ask me out.”

Tony opened his mouth to speak but his thoughts had been completely derailed by James’s last comment. “Uh,” he said intelligently. “Are you…I mean, do you _ want _ me to ask you out?”

“Why Tony, I’d love to go to dinner with you,” James said with a blinding smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Tony took a long swallow of his coffee, trying to figure out what was going on here. “Okay, so…” he started, trying to remember what they had been talking about but he was too distracted by the realization he had apparently just arranged a date with James.

“You’re following me,” James reminded him.

“Right. Are you a spy?” Tony asked bluntly. “For your old boss at the 76th?”

At the mention of Pierce James’s smile vanished. “For Alexander Pierce? Hell no. Fuck that guy,” he said with a scowl. “Why would you think that?”

“Because Pierce is Fury’s mortal enemy. They hate each other, so I just thought it was too much of a coincidence that you would transfer in right as Fury was going up for a big promotion.”

“Huh.” Scowl fading, James looked at him thoughtfully over his coffee mug. “Well, the answer’s no. I’m not spying for Pierce. But then, that’s something-“

“A spy would say,” Tony finished, sitting back in the booth. “You are indeed a worthy foe.”

James opened his mouth to say something and got distracted by something over Tony's shoulder. “You made it,” James said with a smile, moving over in the booth to let someone in.

Tony blinked in disbelief at the person who sat down. “Sarge?”

“Oh, hey Tony. Bucky mentioned you’d be here,” Sarge said, reaching for a menu. "Have you ordered yet?"

“Bucky?” Tony echoed. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

James gave him jazz hands while Sarge frowned at him. “I know I’ve told everyone dozens of stories about Bucky,” he said, elbowing James in the side. “We grew up together, were in the service together, I was the one who convinced him to join the police.”

“_Y__ou _ are Bucky?” Tony said incredulously. No way in hell he was going to call a man this sexy ‘Bucky.’ In fact, he was going to try very hard not to even say or think the word ever again. “From all Sarge’s stories?” When they both nodded, Tony fell back against his seat, blinking rapidly as he shifted everything he knew about James on its axis, trying to mesh them with all the things Sarge has told them about ‘Bucky.’ All in all, it wasn’t hard; he could totally see James egging Sarge into riding a roller coaster enough times to make him throw up and spending the last of their money trying to win a prize at Coney Island to impress a date.

“Tony here thinks I’m spying on the 99 for Pierce,” James said, and Sarge was shaking his head before James finished his sentence.

“No way,” Sarge said, setting his menu down. “I’ve known Bucky since we were kids. No way he would do something so underhanded, and especially not for _ Pierce,_” he added, making Pierce’s name sound like a four-letter word.

“That doesn’t matter, he could have been turned,” Tony said stubbornly. “Betrayal doesn’t come from places you expect, that’s why it’s called betrayal and not, uh, whatever the word is when you expect someone to be a bad guy and then they are. Ever since Stane-” Tony stopped himself and pressed his lips together tightly.

Instantly, Sarge’s defensive fierceness softened, even as James looked between them with a clear question in his eyes. “I know you’re just trying to protect us, Tony,” Sarge said, and conversation paused while the waitress came by to take their orders. As she walked away, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. “I think if you knew more about the circumstances of Bucky leaving the 76th, you’d understand why Pierce is the last person he’d work for. If you don’t mind talking about it,” he said, turning to James.

James shrugged but his jaw was tight. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, blew out a breath, and said, “That undercover assignment I told you about before was a setup from the beginning. Pierce is dirty and wanted me to take the fall for it.” His mouth had a bitter twist to it, like the memory of betrayal was an actual bad taste in his mouth. Tony could sympathize. “They…I, uh…” James cleared his throat and said, “Drugs got involved. I wasn’t supposed to contact anyone from my real life, but apparently I was out of my gourd and called Steve on a pay phone. He helped me get dried out on the sly and I realized that someone had been dosing me.”

“Jesus,” Tony blurted, horrified.

“Yeah. So I started to dig a little deeper and realized that Pierce was taking cuts from the gangs, maybe even running them. I was trying to get proof and Pierce must have gotten wind that something was up. He was the one who pulled the trigger on the operation and arranged for the sting. I think he alerted the suspects so it would be a bust, and when we pursued them one of his men wrecked the car I was in on purpose.”

Sarge looked like he wanted to flip the table and start punching someone just from talking about it. “I think they were trying to kill him. Instead, they just put him in a coma for a few weeks and cost him his arm.”

“When I woke up, everything I had on Pierce and his operations was gone. My laptop had been erased, my files disappeared, tapes of conversations – everything I ever touched in the year that I was undercover had been completely sanitized.” James spread his hands helplessly. “I had nothing. My word against Pierce’s.”

“So I got Fury to pull strings and have him transferred. He had to get Rumlow a promotion to make a position available-“

“Gross,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose.

“I know, but I was afraid Pierce would try again.”

“Oh, damn,” Tony said, eyes widening as something dawned on him. “Rumlow was outside your apartment building this week.”

James and Sarge shared a glance. “When?” Sarge demanded.

“Thursday. Around 7. He looked around the building a bit and left.”

“Shit,” James said, blowing out a breath. “That’s…really not good.”

“Yeah,” Sarge said. They both looked grim. “We gotta tell the Captain.”

“And then what?” Tony sat back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is the Captain trying to stop Pierce? Or did he really think that moving you across Manhattan was going to be good enough?”

“We had thought that since Pierce already destroyed all of Bucky’s evidence, he’d leave Bucky alone,” Sarge said with a scowl as James stared out the window morosely. The discussion was tabled as the waitress came back with their food.

“Look, let’s not talk about it here, okay?” James said under his breath. “No one is going to make a move before we have a chance to discuss this with Fury on Monday.”

“You don’t know that,” Tony insisted. “Someone should stay with you, just in case.”

At that, James raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Why Tony, are you offering to spend the night with me as my protection? I’m flattered, but I only have one bed and we haven’t even been on our official first date yet.” He turned to Sarge and said, “Tony finally asked me out on that date.”

“Oh yeah?” Sarge said over Tony’s groan. From the way Sarge smiled, Tony had to wonder if the whole office was in on it. “Did he like the museum?”

“That doesn’t count as a date,” Tony said loudly. James just laughed and shoved Sarge out of the booth to use the bathroom.

“Look, Tony,” Sarge said, leaning in as the door closed behind James. “I don’t know if Bucky is being serious or not-”

“God, please stop calling him that,” Tony said, putting his hands over his ears.

“I will not,” Steve said. He gestured at Tony with his fork. “This is the first time Bucky has been interested in anyone since the academy, so be good to him.”

“Sarge, from the way James has been outmaneuvering me this whole week, I think you need to be giving _ him _ the shovel talk,” Tony said dryly. “He’s been running circles around me.”

“He tries really hard to look like he has it all together, but he still has his bad days, okay? So be…patient.”

Tony was surprised to see how serious Sarge was about this, so he swallowed his smart-ass comment and just said, “Yeah, okay, Sarge, I will.” Sarge gave him one more of his blue-eyed stare downs, a tactic clearly learned from Fury, and then returned to his food as James came back to the table.

“So where are you taking me on our date?” James said as he climbed over the back of the booth and sat down. “Be warned, your answer will be graded.”


	9. Day 8: Monday

“Good morning, James,” Tony said cheerfully, probably way too cheerfully for 8 am on a Monday morning. James gave him a jaunty two fingered salute and a smile as he went to his desk, pulling off his heavy leather jacket and sliding his motorcycle helmet under the desk. Immediately, Tony could feel Natasha’s gaze on him like a laser beam from across the room, but like a true friend he pretended to ignore it, along with the dings on his IM, until she finally got curious enough to cross the bull pen.

She shoved the whole stack of Tony’s paperwork to the side, jostling his keyboard in the middle of typing, and sat on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs and raising an eyebrow. “Well?” She said. “What was _that_?” She tilted her head towards James as if Tony might not know what she was talking about.

Tony debated the merits of playing stupid versus the look in Natasha’s eyes. “We, uh, worked it out over the weekend,” he said, leaning back in his chair so he didn’t have to crane his neck to meet her eyes. “Had a nice heart to heart, spoke our truths, cried some manly tears-”

“You finally realized that he’s Sergeant Rogers’s best friend,” Natasha put in, and Tony gasped.

“You knew James was Bucky the whole time?” He started trying to shove her off his desk. “Some friend you are.”

“I tried to tell you last week, but you kept cutting me off,” Natasha said, sliding gracefully off the desk and looking like it was her idea the entire time. “You know how I hate that.”

“I’m sorry, and you were right,” he said as she turned to leave. “I admit it. I was so busy asking questions that I wasn’t asking the right questions or listening to any of the answers.”

“Thank you.” Natasha leaned against his desk, hand on her hip. “So you guys are all buddy-buddy now, hmm? Does he know that you’re one of _ the _Starks?” She asked. “Since you were speaking your truths and all?”

Tony shrugged, feeling his cheeks get hot. “He’s a detective, if he doesn’t do his homework that’s not _ my _ fault,” he said defensively. “Besides, it’s not like we’re dating. Our first date is on Thursday.”

“Nice. What are you planning?”

“It’s a surprise,” Tony said loftily, spinning around in his chair. “Classified information.”

“Meaning you haven’t figured it out yet,” Natasha translated, and Tony shook his head.

“You are incorrect, and you’re not going to trick me into telling you.”

“Telling her what?” James asked, appearing behind Natasha. “About our date? Yeah, he’s being coy with me, too.”

“It’s not _ coy_, it’s _ romantic. _ Philistines, both of you.”

“Sure, sure. We’ll see.” James’s smile faded and he said, “Hey, I’m going to see the Captain now, if you want to come with me.”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Tony locked his computer and followed James to Fury’s office; when they got to Fury’s office, Sarge was already there, looking like he had swallowed a bug.

“I understand you’ve seen Officer Rumlow loitering outside Officer Barnes’s apartment building last week,” Fury said as they sat down. “Do I want to know why you were so strategically stationed to see him?”

Tony coughed. “Uh, no, probably not, but it’s been resolved.”

“Good.” He sat back and laced his fingers across his chest. “As I told Sergeant Rogers, though this is an unwelcome turn of events, there’s nothing we can do to accelerate our efforts against Captain Pierce unless he makes a move. I would advise you, Officer Barnes, to take appropriate steps for your safety, perhaps stay with Sergeant Rogers or another friend, until we can be sure we have completely dismantled his network.”

“Efforts? What efforts? I haven’t heard of any efforts,” Tony protested. “I want to help. If Pierce is dirty, I’m sure I can find something-”

“You have been helping, though I am sure you can understand why I didn’t tell you the context of your investigations,” Fury said. “The money laundering case. The cell phone analysis two weeks ago that you complained was tedious and unnecessary. Half a dozen burner phones Wilson brought in for you to do a forensic examination of. All of those were pieces of the case I’m bringing against Pierce.”

“Oh. Right. Well…can’t we do more? I mean, it seems like you are chipping away around Pierce, but we need to go after Pierce himself-”

“Tony.” James put his metal hand on Tony’s forearm, the weight of it cold and heavy. “I got lucky that Pierce wanted to make it look like an accident. If he finds out we are targeting him, next time he might not be so circumspect.”

Now Tony could understand why Steve had had that look on his face; he must be just as frustrated, if not more, that he couldn’t do more to protect James and stop Pierce. “Fine,” Tony scowled. When Fury raised his eyebrow expectantly, Tony rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll follow your lead and I won’t go after Pierce alone.” 

"Good. You're dismissed." 

As they all filed out of Fury's office, Sarge pulled Tony to the side. "The look on your face is not making me real confident in your intentions to listen to the captain," he said in a low voice. "If we're going to go after someone like Pierce, we gotta do it right or we might as well not do it at all." 

"I know. _I know_," Tony insisted when Sarge just gave him a Look. "I don't want anything to happen to James either." Sarge stared hard into Tony's eyes for a few more moments before he nodded, apparently satisfied by what he saw. 

"Okay, good. I hope you enjoy your date with him, his favorite food is Thai."


	10. Day 11: Thursday

“A classic car show,” James said with delight as they climbed out of the cab. Parked out front of the venue was a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro, completely refinished with leather bucket seats and a beautiful dark teal paint job. James circled it, whistling. “How did you know I was into classic cars?”

“Anyone with a classy motorcycle like yours would appreciate a fine automobile,” Tony said, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels smugly. Glancing down, he sidled in front of the tag that said ‘On Loan from the Personal Collection of Howard Stark’ and hoped that James wouldn’t pay much attention to the fact that Stark Industries was a co-sponsor of the event. Clearing his throat, he said “And this time, we’ll eat together, instead of one of us eating and the other being exiled to watch from a nearby bus stop.”

"Deal," James said with a laugh. He held out his hand and when Tony took it, he drew Tony in until they were standing chest to chest. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumb over Tony's knuckles.

"If you want to," Tony said, swallowing with some difficulty. His eyes dropped to the soft, full curve of James's mouth, and, as usual when he was nervous, his own mouth starting running away with him. "Technically, I had the first kiss scheduled for later, you know, after dinner and drinks and...uh..." Tony trailed off as James cupped his face with his free hand and pressed his cool metal thumb to Tony's bottom lip. Holding his breath, Tony's eyes drifted shut as James dipped his head and pressed his lips where his thumb had been, a simple, innocent pressure that made Tony's heart race and mouth tingle. He went up on his toes to get closer as James's mouth slanted across his, and he shivered when the hand on his jaw curled around the back of his neck to hold him still as he took Tony apart with his lips and tongue. When he finally pulled away, Tony blinked and let out his breath in a rush.

"Shall we?" James asked, and when Tony nodded his arm curled around Tony's shoulders, holding him close, as they went inside. 


	11. Day 14: Tuesday

“Hey, I know this is below your paygrade,” James asked, “but could you take a look at my computer? It’s been running really slow and I don’t know why.”

“You know there are rules against pornographic materials at work, James,” Tony said, shaking his head in disappointment as he followed James to his desk and sat down in his office chair. "Whatever I find, I'm going to have to report to the captain."

James leaned over Tony’s shoulder to unlock his computer, making absolutely no effort to avoid Tony's personal space as he reached for the keyboard. “Hey, discussions of my pornographic preferences aren’t scheduled until at least the third date,” James said in a low voice into Tony’s ear, the heat of his breath giving Tony goosebumps and making him shiver. “Then we’ll see what kind of.._rules_ you like to follow.” Then he straightened and said, “Want some coffee?”

“Uh…sure,” Tony said, trying to get his brain back online after James so effectively tossed it in the gutter. He stared at the computer screen for a second, trying to figure out what he had been about to do.

“Computer’s slow,” James reminded him with a smirk, squeezing Tony’s shoulder with his metal hand before retrieving Tony’s coffee cup from his desk.

Tony huffed out a breath, tearing his eyes away from James’s ass to get to work. His fingers flew as he logged in as an administrator to get a look at the program files and CPU usage. As James came back and set the coffee at his elbow, Tony's eyebrows drew together and he said, “Huh.”

“Huh?” James echoed, looking over his shoulder at his computer screen. “What do you mean, ‘huh’?”

“It doesn’t look like any of the usual suspects are what’s slowing you down,” Tony said, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought. “I’m going to need a little more time.”

“Okay. I’ll go get lunch,” James said. “Want your usual?”

“Sure,” Tony said absently, barely hearing James’s question as he opened up the computer’s OS and started scanning the code. When nothing jumped out at him, he went back to the computer’s automatically generated usage statistics and noticed something odd – tiny packets of data were being sent out at regular intervals and always to the same IP address. Of itself, that wasn’t alarming; most operating systems and applications sent usage statistics and error logs back to the parent company for analysis, but this IP address didn’t track to any company that Tony could identify. With a sinking feeling and a glance over his shoulder to make sure Fury or Rogers wasn’t looming, Tony gave himself root access to the computer and began going through the program codes at the kernel level.

“Well, shit,” Tony said, sitting back in James chair and rubbing a hand over his jaw as he found what he was looking for.

“Uh oh, ‘shit’ is even worse than ‘huh,’” James said, appearing at his elbow and making Tony jump. “I got you shawarma but you can’t have it until you tell me why you are cursing at my computer.”

“For the record, I’m not cursing _ at _ your computer, I’m cursing _ because _ of your computer.” With a grim sigh, Tony starting taking screenshots of what he’d found and sending them to the printer. “Get Sarge and meet me in Fury’s office in five minutes.”

“Tell me what I’m looking at,” Fury said, studying the pages of unintelligible lines of code, some portions of it highlighted.

“Keylogging software,” Tony said, pointing to the highlighted code. “Someone installed software on James’ computer that’s been tracking every keystroke and sending it to this IP address.”

Fury sat back in his chair, jaw working. “You’re saying that someone’s been spying on James’s work,” he said after a moment. “So every case that’s crossed his desk has been compromised.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Why?” James asked. “I just got here. It’s not like I’m not working on any high profile cases or anything.”

“I am a little more worried about who,” Fury said. “As in, who owns this IP address? And who could install this software, and who else in this precinct might have compromised computers?”

“All good questions.” Tony cleared his throat. “And the answers are, I’m working on it, anyone who had access to the computer, and I will check.”

“Captain, I think the obvious answers are Pierce, Rumlow, and probably no one,” Sarge said. “I don’t think it’s about Buc- Officer Barnes’s cases, I think it’s about Barnes himself. Pierce wants to make sure Barnes isn't trying to investigate him again.”

Tony was glad that Sarge had said it, because that had been his first thought too. “Rumlow could have done it," he pointed out, "since it was almost guaranteed that James would be getting his desk. All it would take is a thumb drive and the program could install itself in seconds.”

James scrubbed his face in his hands and blew out a breath. “So what now? Am I supposed to just keep working and pretend like we don’t know I’m being monitored? What about my cases?”

“I’ll work on the IP address as fast as I can,” Tony promised before Fury could speak. “If it is Pierce, this could be our best chance to get to him. You know that he wouldn’t let some low life in his organization be responsible for keeping an eye on James. Even if it’s not him directly, it might be someone high up that we can get to flip on him.” Tony scooted to the edge of his seat, trying to throttle down his excitement. “At the very least, this whole keylogging thing could get IA involved.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Fury warned. He shuffled the papers together and handed them back to Tony. “Pierce has wiggled through traps before. But do what you can, and I’ll start writing up everything I already have, and we will see if it’s enough.”

Tony nodded and took his papers and managed to keep his cool until he closed the door to Fury’s office. “_ Yes, _ ” he hissed, and all but ran to his desk, shoving all the other files on it into a drawer as he logged on. He checked his own computer for the keylogging software just to be sure, but there was no way anyone would be able to install something on _ his _ machine without him noticing; he didn’t even let the IT department run software updates without checking the code first. With that out of the way, he flexed his fingers and started to get to work.

“Want to eat first?” James said, waving the shawarma in front of Tony’s face. “Fifteen minutes isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It might, actually,” Tony said, not looking up from his screen. “I can delay when the keylogging program sends its next packet of information to this IP address, but as soon as they get it they might know we are on to them.” When he ran the IP address through the Internet Assigned Numbers Authority it came up Murex, Inc., and when he googled it he had to laugh.

“What?” James asked, already biting into his shawarma.

Tony tilted his computer screen so James could see it. “Murex is a type of shell,” he explained. “Someone in Pierce’s organization thinks they are clever.”

“Not clever enough, huh?” James said, but Tony only made a distracted sound, already searching for the registered owners of "Shell", Inc. Tony was too engrossed in his work to see the look on James’s face as he watched Tony, but Natasha wasn’t, and she managed to take a picture and send it to Clint. After a moment, he sent back the _HEART EYES MOTHER FUCKER_ gif and Natasha almost spat out her coffee.


	12. Day 15: Monday

“Stark, we got a warrant for the location you tracked the IP address to,” Fury said, dropping the paperwork on Tony’s keyboard. “We are organizing a raid team now. You want in?”

“Of course!” Tony stood, shoving his chair back from his desk, grabbing his gun and badge from his desk drawer. James and Sarge stood as well, but Fury waved Sarge back to his seat.

“I need you to stay here, Rogers,” Fury said. “Barnes and Stark can oversee this operation.” Sarge opened his mouth to argue, but one raised eyebrow from the captain made him settle back into his seat, mouth a flat line of displeasure. 

"Don't worry, Sarge, I'll watch his back," Tony promised, clapping a hand on James's shoulder as they went to the armory to pick up raid gear. 

"Yeah, make sure it's my _back_ you're watching," James said, turning around to walk backwards so he could wag a finger at Tony. "Don't think I haven't noticed you checking out my ass. You're making me feel objectified by your male gaze."

"Hey, you're the one who keeps putting your food on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator and bending over to get it three times a day," Tony pointed out. "Also, with an ass like that it would be a crime not to appreciate it, like going to the Louvre and skipping the Mona Lisa." 

James stopped in the middle of the hallway and stared at him with a funny look on his face, then he suddenly pulled Tony into an empty hallway, pressing him against the wall and kissing him thoroughly, leaving him breathless. "I'm so glad I met you," he said, and pressed one more kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth before pulling away. "Let's go catch some bad guys."

Since they were detectives and not door-kickers, Tony and James were stuck leaning against a police cruiser outside the run-down office complex that the IP address had traced back to while the SWAT team cleared the building. When the front door came down with a loud bang, they both tensed, half-expecting to hear gunfire, but after twenty minutes one of the officers came out and gave the all clear. A few minutes after that came a steady stream of men with their hands cuffed behind their back, looking sullen and hostile. 

"That's a coke dealer," James commented, squinting at one of the men that came out the door. "That's the gun runner...money guy...don't know that guy...and fuck _that _guy in particular," James said with a scowl, jabbing his finger at a tall bulky brute of a guy that looked like he'd been punched one too many times during the formative years of his life. "You're going to rot in hell, Rollins!" He shouted, making Tony wince. When the man looked up, James gave him the finger. 

"So it's definitely Pierce's network?" Tony said. He looked at his watch and sighed, shuffling his feet; he was eager to get a look inside before forensics showed up and banished them back outside again. Also the body armor was hot and sweaty but the officer in charge of the scene wouldn't let them take it off until all of the suspects were in custody. 

"Yeah." Suddenly James straightened. "Check it out," he said, gesturing with his head towards the latest guy to be brought outside. "That's the guy you said was outside my apartment, right? Rumlow?"

"Sure is," Tony said. He rubbed his hands together with glee. "Good. Looks like we got ourselves a big fish."

"I'll say. I never knew his name, but I recognize him, he's Pierce's XO. If we can get him to flip on Pierce, he'll make or break the entire case."

Tony held up his fist. "Rock paper scissors for who gets to interrogate him first?"

"Sure," James said, and raised his own fist. "You know, tomorrow will be our third date,” he said casually as Tony started to count.

Tony paused, hand in mid-air. “_If _ you count the museum,” Tony pointed out. “And I don’t think you should.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” James said with a sigh, shaking his head. “I had high hopes for our third date.”

“What do you-?” Tony started, then he remembered James’s breath, hot on his neck as he murmured _ pornographic preferences _, then the toe-curling, spine-melting kiss they’d had at the end of their date on Saturday, and his brain blue-screened so hard that he completely missed it when James said "Ready, set, go," then held his hand out flat, palm down.

"Paper," James said with satisfaction, putting his hand over Tony's still closed fist. "I win."


	13. Day 16: Tuesday

Maybe it was the thrill of catching Rumlow or the motorcycle ride to and from the restaurant where Tony was plastered against James's back, hands maybe wandering while they waited at stoplights, but they barely made it through the third date without breaking public decency laws. Fortunately, the elevator didn't have a camera and James's hallway was deserted when the doors opened so he only had to take one hand out from under Tony's shirt to unlock the door. He kicked it closed behind them and took off his shoes and jacket without taking his mouth from Tony's, making a sound deep in his chest as Tony squeezed his ass.

Then Tony groaned as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Hey, wait, wait,” Tony gasped, pulling away from James’s mouth, hands covering James’s where they were busy unbuckling his belt. He suppressed a whimper when he saw the shiny metal hand so close to his zipper, the back of James’s fingers grazing his aching erection. He blew out a breath and looked into James’s eyes so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. “I gotta tell you something first," he said in a rush. "I’m, uh, so my dad’s Howard Stark. Of Stark Industries." 

“Okay,” James said slowly.

“So, I’m, you know. Rich?”

“Okay," James said again. He stood there patiently, hands still on Tony’s belt as his eyes traveled all over Tony like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to look at most. “Is that all?”

“Well, yeah,” Tony said, a little confused. “Usually, uh, people care if I don’t mention that. Also, I'm the one who designed that." He pointed down at James's metal hand. "In case that's, I don't know, weird for you."

“Thank you,” James said. Tony couldn't drag his eyes away as James pressed his hand against the front of his jeans, his stomach swooping at the sight of the contrast of the smooth silver metal against the dark denim. “I appreciate your honesty. How about you follow me and get better acquainted with this engineering marvel of yours, and I make you come so hard you forget what day it is?”

“Right, yes, okay, let’s do that,” Tony babbled before James shut him up with his mouth as he backed them into his bedroom.

Hours later, Tony made a bleary sound as the buzzing of a phone against a hard surface woke him up from his well-fucked daze. He felt James stir against him as he reached for the phone, jostling his head where he was sleeping on James’s shoulder. Then there was bright light that made him grumble and press his face into James’s chest. After a moment, he heard a rumbling noise of satisfaction before the light disappeared and James put the phone back down.

“Rumlow finally agreed to roll on Pierce,” James said, arm coming up to wrap around Tony’s shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head. “You did it.”

“Hooray,” Tony mumbled, still half asleep. His hand came up and fumbled for James’s mouth, pressing his palm over it. “Now shhhh,” he slurred. “Sleep.”


	14. Day 67: Friday

“Oh, my God.” Tony turned to see what James was looking at, and his jaw dropped.

“Captain Fury,” he managed. “So good to see you. Here. Outside of work, when we…are both on a date.” Tony had secretly suspected that Fury actually lived at the precinct and his marriage was a carefully constructed cover story, but here he was, dressed in a suit with an actual human person on his arm.

Fury looked like he was angry enough to chew iron and spit nails. “Stark,” he said shortly. “Barnes. This is Dr. Bennett.” His spouse was wearing slacks and a well-cut sports coat over a plain white shirt, hair cut close to their head and smiling in what seemed like a genuine welcome.

“What a pleasure to meet you,” they said sincerely. “Nick doesn’t like to bring work home, so I rarely get to see the people he works with.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Doctor,” James said smoothly, the first one of them to recover from the surprise of seeing Fury out in the wild. James held out his hand for them to shake. “If I may ask, how do you prefer to be addressed?”

“So polite,” they said with an impressed look as they shook his hand. “Quinn and they, thank you for asking.”

“My pleasure,” James said, grinning broadly. “We’ve heard so much about you at work,” he lied, completely ignoring the glares he was getting from Fury. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I can’t wait to tell the rest of the squad, they are going to be so jealous.”

Tony held out his hand as well, murmuring something pleasant on autopilot as he shook hands. He was still stunned that the mystery was finally solved, the case closed, and he was practically vibrating with the need to text Natasha and Clint. Finally, the obligatory small talk was over, and the host was leading each of them to their respective tables.

When Tony sat and instantly reached for his phone, James stopped his hand. “Nope, I get to tell everyone,” he said. “I saw them first, I asked, I win the bet.”

Tony scowled but he couldn’t argue with that. “Dammit. Okay, fine.”


	15. Missing Scene: Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky POV of Tony's stakeout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as a tumblr drabble, then lost it, and finally found it again, so I'm going to share it before I lose it again! >.<

“Hey, Steve, what’s Tony’s deal?” Bucky asked, staring through his window blinds at where Tony was unsuccessfully lurking in his car across the street.

“His deal?” Steve echoed, sounding a little distracted. Probably painting. “Well, as a co-worker, he is a great guy and ridiculously smart. Definitely a genius, but doesn’t seem to have any common sense sometimes. If you go to him with a problem, sometimes he will fix it so much it will circle back around to being a problem again but in a new and more exciting way. His family life blew up in a big way not too long ago that resulted in a bunch of arrests, but that’s not really my story to tell. Why do you ask?”

“Damn, Steve, you have a whole dossier on this guy, don’t you?” Bucky stepped away from the window and thought about sneaking out of the building to give Tony a good scare, but he was already in his boxers so in the end he decided not to. “I’m asking because he’s parked outside my apartment building, so I was wondering if he had any stalker tendencies I should know about.”

“Huh.” Bucky could tell by Steve’s voice that he had put down his paintbrush and was now paying full attention to the conversation. “That’s weird. I’ll ask Natasha. If Tony’s up to something, she’s usualy hip deep in it with him.”

“Ok. Are they dating?”

“No, I don’t think so, why?”

“I don’t know, Steve, maybe for the usual reasons a person asks if someone is dating anyone,” Bucky said sarcastically, trying to cover the way his heart was suddenly pounding in his chest. He looked out the window to see Tony hitting his head on the steering wheel and for some reason, the sight made his sudden nervousness ease.

“Oh,” Steve said. Bucky rolled his eyes at the carefully disguised excitement in his voice. “Yeah, I think he’s single but I don’t know if he’s interested in guys.”

“Judging from the way he’s been checking me out down at the precinct, he’s definitely into guys,” Bucky said. It was really flattering, actually, the way he could sometimes catch Tony looking at him at work. Bucky didn’t need his departmentally mandated therapist to know that his self-confidence and body image had taken a hit since the accident, and being around Tony made him feel like his old self again. “Anyway, I asked him out for a drink on Monday, so now it’s his turn to ask me out on a date. We will see if he can muster up the courage or if I need to give him a little help. ” 


End file.
